The Window
by ThatDarnedGirl
Summary: Post episode 6. Tom and Kitty are in an established relationship; a vignette on quiet, intimate moments away from the madness of war. Tom's POV


**The Window**

The early morning light hit his closed eyes, a reminder that oblivion had ended and the stark realities of war still surrounded him. On most mornings, Tom would go through his routine as he always did, readying himself for the horrors day would bring. Today however, he felt languid and allowed himself to slowly come to life with no sense of urgency. Images from the previous night came back to him in a torrent, and he smiled into his pillow, eyes still closed, savouring the feeling of contentment.

He stretched out his arm and when it didn't make the desired contact, he opened his eyes and adjusted them to the early morning light. He scanned the room for her, slightly worried that it had all just been a vivid dream. But his sore muscles were a comforting sign that it was not, she had been with him. Away from the hospital, in their own private universe.

And there she was, seated at the open window ledge, smoking a cigarette. The realisation that she was wearing his shirt, a few buttons fastened, as she casually sat by the window looking at the world not yet awake, was his undoing.

He felt a sharp spike of desire course through him, she looked so seductive and so unaware of the effect she had on him. He quickly pulled on his trousers and walked across the room to her. She put out her cigarette and turned towards him – giving him a slow, sweet smile and raised eyebrow, as if to ask why he was awake so early.

He noticed her taking him in, her eyes moving down his torso, and lower. It excited him to think that she admired his form. "I get hard just looking at you," he said smoothly, a raw edge to his voice. It was a brazen thing to say, and something he might never have imagined doing before her. But she brought out a passion in him that was almost transformative, a wildness that he could not tame.

She didn't seem shocked by what he said, and instead, turned and straightened her back, "so, what are you going to do about it?" she asked, parting her legs to accommodate him. "Well, I have a few ideas," he replied lazily, bringing his lips to her neck. He looked outside the window as he moved the shirt aside for better access to her collarbone. It was still early and hardly anyone was on the street outside, but it excited him to think that they were in plain sight. If someone were to pass by and look up, they would be clearly seen. What would they see, he wondered? Lust, reckless passion, love? He felt all those things for her.

His hands seems to have a life of their own, and they made a journey up her thighs while he continued his exploration of her neck. He felt one with her, she was the missing piece in his life, and he was finally whole. His fingers reached her most intimate spot, and he felt her shudder as he slowly started to stroke her. "I want to kiss you," he said. "You're already kissing me," she reasoned. "Here," he emphasized, as he continued to stroke her. "I want to kiss you here".

She looked at him through hooded eyes, and her saw her consent. He often wondered what it would be like to discover her completely. He knew that being inside her was heaven, it was the source of life, and he would never tire of feeling so perfectly joined to her. But the thought of tasting her essence, knowing her so completely and bring her to the ultimate pleasure, was a thrilling prospect.

He immediately fell to his knees and kissed her thigh, slowly making his way up. He could smell her, it reminded him of the sea and salt and earth. The feeling was primal. He could feel her restlessness as he satiated his curiosity – she was growing impatient. Encouraged by her passionate responses, he licked her core and diligently brought her to the precipice.

She finally let out a breathy sigh, followed by long moan and he knew she had found her pleasure. Knowing that they were loving each other so openly, excited him further. He was harder than he had even been and needed to find his release with her.

He moved back to her lips, kissing her, wanting to share her inimitable taste. He looked at her with raw desire and poised himself at her entrance. Without any warning, he pushed further and saw the shock and delight on her face. This was life and she was everything. Her beautiful face flushed, chest heaving, his white shirt still providing her some modesty from any prying eyes outside. To a stranger they may look like a couple in an embrace. But in reality he was fucking her. Persistently. He was determined that she find her pleasure again, once would not be enough.

The morning had inspired him, her willingness to allow his exploration fuelled his desire for more. It made him stop and she moaned in disappointment. He quickly turned her around, so she was facing the street of the small French town. He slipped his hands under the shirt and fondled her breasts while he found her entrance again and slipped inside once more. The new angle made her gasp, and he started to seek his release, tweaking, pinching, thrusting – until they both reached their satisfaction.

He slumped forward, still joined to her, not wanting to break the connection. "I love you, too," he whispered, while she held onto the ledge, fighting for breath.

That morning, they made their way back to the hospital, both in relative silence. She lay her head on his shoulder while he drove them back. This was the start, they would make it out, they would survive the war because they had each other to live for.


End file.
